The Dyin' Crapshooter's Blues Songtext
von Blind Willie McTell
The Dyin' Crapshooter's Blues Songtext
Little Jesse was a gambler night and day
He used crooked cards and dice
Sinful guy, good-hearted, but had no soul
Heart was hard and cold like ice
Jesse was a wild, reckless gambler, won a gang of change
Although he was a many-gamblin′ heart, he led in vain
Began to spend and lose his money, began to be blue
Sad and all alone
His heart had even turned to stone
What broke Jesse's heart while he was blue and all alone?
Sweet Lorene had packed up and gone
Police walked up and shot my friend Jesse down
Boys, I gotta die today
He had a gang of crapshooters and gamblers at his bedside
Here are the words he had to say
"Guess I ought to know
Exactly how high I want to go"
(How you wanna go, Jesse?)
"Eight crapshooters to be my pallbearers
Let ′em be veiled down in black
I want nine men going to the graveyard, Bubba
And eight men coming back
I want the gang of gamblers gathered 'round my coffin side
Crooked cards printed on my hearse
Don't say crapshooters had ever grieved over me
My life′s been a doggone curse
Send poker players to the graveyard
Dig my grave with the ace of spades
I want twelve polices in my funeral march
A sheriff playing blackjack lead the parade
I want the judge and solicitor who jailed me fourteen times
Put a pair of dice in my shoes"
(Then what?)
"Let a deck of cards be my tombstone
I got the dyin′ crapshooter's blues"
Sixteen real good crapshooters
Sixteen bootleggers to sing a song
Sixteen racket men gambling
Cover ten boards while I′m rolling along
He wanted twenty-two womens out of the Hampton Hotel
Twenty-six off of South Bell
Twenty-nine women out of North Atlanta
No, little Jesse didn't pass out so swell
His head was aching, heart was thumping
Little Jesse went to hell bouncing and jumping
Folks, don′t be standing 'round old Jesse crying
He wants everybody to do the Charleston while he′s dying
One foot up, a toenail dragging
Throw my buddy Jesse in the hoodoo wagon
Come here, mama, with that can of booze
The dyin' crapshooter's leaving the world
The dyin′ crapshooter′s going down slow
With the dyin' crapshooter′s blues
He used crooked cards and dice
Sinful guy, good-hearted, but had no soul
Heart was hard and cold like ice
Jesse was a wild, reckless gambler, won a gang of change
Although he was a many-gamblin′ heart, he led in vain
Began to spend and lose his money, began to be blue
Sad and all alone
His heart had even turned to stone
What broke Jesse's heart while he was blue and all alone?
Sweet Lorene had packed up and gone
Police walked up and shot my friend Jesse down
Boys, I gotta die today
He had a gang of crapshooters and gamblers at his bedside
Here are the words he had to say
"Guess I ought to know
Exactly how high I want to go"
(How you wanna go, Jesse?)
"Eight crapshooters to be my pallbearers
Let ′em be veiled down in black
I want nine men going to the graveyard, Bubba
And eight men coming back
I want the gang of gamblers gathered 'round my coffin side
Crooked cards printed on my hearse
Don't say crapshooters had ever grieved over me
My life′s been a doggone curse
Send poker players to the graveyard
Dig my grave with the ace of spades
I want twelve polices in my funeral march
A sheriff playing blackjack lead the parade
I want the judge and solicitor who jailed me fourteen times
Put a pair of dice in my shoes"
(Then what?)
"Let a deck of cards be my tombstone
I got the dyin′ crapshooter's blues"
Sixteen real good crapshooters
Sixteen bootleggers to sing a song
Sixteen racket men gambling
Cover ten boards while I′m rolling along
He wanted twenty-two womens out of the Hampton Hotel
Twenty-six off of South Bell
Twenty-nine women out of North Atlanta
No, little Jesse didn't pass out so swell
His head was aching, heart was thumping
Little Jesse went to hell bouncing and jumping
Folks, don′t be standing 'round old Jesse crying
He wants everybody to do the Charleston while he′s dying
One foot up, a toenail dragging
Throw my buddy Jesse in the hoodoo wagon
Come here, mama, with that can of booze
The dyin' crapshooter's leaving the world
The dyin′ crapshooter′s going down slow
With the dyin' crapshooter′s blues
Writer(s): Willie Mctell Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
